


Geek Squad

by phalangine



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon Disabled Character, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7377154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is the best in Columbia’s tech support department. Professor Charles Xavier is the source of most tech problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. geek squad

One thing no one mentioned about being the go-to guy in a college campus tech support office: Erik’s hours are garbage. Between genuine midnight callouts concerning possible student hackings and the panicked distress signals sent out by the teaching staff, Erik has never come so close to hating something he loves since he was four and his father forgot to put the strudel away. He still gets queasy when his mother talks about pastry.

Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep being the illusive dream it is, he can’t say he’s surprised when, not a moment after he sits down at his desk, his supervisor bellows,

“Got another one for ya, Magnets!”

Howlett pops into view just long enough to drop a paper on Erik’s desk before scurrying off with a shout of, “No givebacks!”

If Erik had been confused by that, the name at the top would have made everything clear:

Charles Xavier.

Thinking about the mess that must be waiting for him in Xavier’s classroom, Erik can’t help but sigh. So much for grabbing some sleep at his desk. He doesn’t feel like testing Howlett’s patience, so he grabs his bag and heads out.

Nine times out of ten, if tech support gets called, Charles Xavier is involved. The man is a genius- he has enough doctorates and awards to fill a room, and he’s done the kind of high-profile work that means even people outside his field recognize him. He runs his lab like a machine. His students have a strong tendency to make names for themselves. They seem to like him on the whole more than most professors- possibly due to the man’s ability to look less like the preeminent mind of a generation, if not the century, and more like a friendly old man.

Give him anything electronic that isn’t a microscope, though, and the pride of Columbia rapidly devolves into a nightmare. He has destroyed more tablets and projectors than Erik had thought possible- and that only takes into account what Erik has seen for himself. Charles had already been at the university for a number of years before he was hired.

Some days Erik isn’t certain they didn’t do that just because of Charles.

Reading through the most recent report as he makes his way to Charles’ room, Erik can admit he doesn’t actually mind cleaning up after most of Charles’ fumbles. More often than not, they just need simple fixes, or replacement parts, and both are good for breaking the tedium of his office hours. Yet every once in a while the professor does manage something impressive. Melting an iPad from the inside out always comes to mind, but it isn’t the most impressive.

Charles once convinced the entire school, himself included, that he had erased the student common drive and everything inside. He hadn’t actually managed it- what he had done was rename it, move everything to other drives, and hide the drive. How he did it without meaning to is beyond Erik. The waves of unhappiness and confusion pouring off him the whole time Erik worked had felt genuine, and Charles has never stopped giving him kicked puppy looks when Erik comes by to fix his fuck ups.

_Computer keeps having trouble with the internet,_ and _the words look funny,_ are the official problems this time around, but there, scrawled below them in handwriting so messy it’s almost illegible: _the internet is gone???_

Farther down, the words “physical damage” have been circled. Emphatically. Beside them is one of the hasty notes Erik has come to identify with a guilty Charles.

_Terribly sorry! Misjudged the distance and sort of knocked it off. Do come at your convenience. I have an evening class later today, but I’m sure we’ll be able to make do without._

Annoyingly, the instruction to come at his convenience and assurance that Charles can make do don’t feel passive aggressive. Charles really will take care of himself, and he won’t have a fit about it.

It’s early yet, so Erik is unsurprised to find Charles’ classroom empty. The man himself is hunched over in his chair at the front of the room. He doesn’t look up as Erik walks in but does send one of those odd psionic pulses at him.

How something without sound can convey _Hello, I’m not ignoring you, do come in,_ and _Erik, lovely to see you,_ is one of the less menacing mysteries of psionics, though it still creeps Erik out to hear someone else’s thoughts in his head. He doesn’t mind so much with Charles now he knows to anticipate the greeting. The professor has a soft touch; his mutation feels almost like a physical connection when it nudges against Erik’s mind. Always light, always deliberate when it touches him.

Always pleasant.

Charles’ computer is set up on the desk to his right where they moved it after he accidentally threw a tablet out the window last year, and with a mental nudge forward- _do whatever magic you do, don’t mind me_ \- Erik gets to work.

In less than fifteen minutes, he has the situation figured out.

Charles is done by then and has slipped into the stiff, uncomfortable-looking position Erik has come to associate with a guilty mind expecting remonstration.

Gesturing him over, Erik fights to keep his thoughts quiet. It isn’t punishment; he just enjoys the flood of relief a little anticipation on the professor’s part creates.

Once they’re elbow to elbow, Erik turns to him. “Well, Charles, you didn’t delete the internet,” he begins.

Hope lights the man up. He turns the start of one of his wide smiles on Erik as he asks, “I didn’t?”

“You didn’t,” Erik confirms, reluctantly charmed by Charles’ enduring good nature. After getting chewed out yesterday for not being able to fix another professor’s desktop after the man downloaded the motherload of viruses onto it and a hundred small issues that were all somehow Erik’s fault, easy-to-impress Charles and his appreciation of Erik’s ability to solve his minor fuck ups is a welcome exchange. Leaning in, he says, “I’m guessing you wanted to delete your browser’s desktop shortcut and wound up uninstalling it instead.”  Charles nods, face pinking, so Erik gives him an encouraging half-smile. “I reinstalled it, and once you log into your account, everything should be where it was before.”

Scooting over to the towers, he gestures to the nest of wires in the back. Charles follows him with a look of concentration, and Erik reminds himself not to show off. “Next, your Ethernet cable- that’s the blue one here- wasn’t plugged in correctly. It’s also getting worn out, so I would put in a request for a new one now if I were you. For now, I pushed this one back into place, and it ought to be fine until the new one comes.”

“Right. Yes, Ethernet…” Charles echoes. He pulls a notebook out and, to Erik’s surprise, seems to be taking notes.

“The cracks don’t seem to indicate damage to the computer itself, just superficial wear and tear to the case. This tower hit the floor, right?”

Charles lets out a breath. His face is still, adorably, red. “My TA, Jean, managed to slow its descent, but yes, the black thing fell over.”

Once again, Charles’ ignorance is cute rather than frustrating. The man is trying, and when it comes down to it, that’s all Erik really wants.

Returning to the monitor, he wakes the screen and points to the settings page already up and waiting. “The words looking strange was just a settings change,” he explains. “You altered the default system display font, I assume accidentally. I’ve changed it back.”

This is where the appointment usually ends. Erik gets up, tells the hapless luddite to call again when trouble comes up, and legs it back to sanity. Charles does not get the usual.

Stretching his neck, Erik makes a casual offer. “Before I go, you may as well double check if this is the right one.”

Charles nods as seriously as though Erik had told him to fall on his sword. He quickly tucks his journal away and wheels closer so he can reach the mouse and keyboard.

“I can move if you want,” Erik offers when Charles leans an arm on the back of Erik’s chair. The man shakes his head, seemingly content as he is.

Erik has adjusted to the odd habits of telepaths over the years. None of them has a solid understanding of personal space. Charles made an effort before giving up spectacularly, which Erik can never decide if he finds sweet or annoying.

Settling in- Charles could well fuck this up- Erik merely pulls out his phone and settles in.

_Finished with Xavier’s request, no follow up required,_ he types out and sends to the tech center so they can send him his next assignment. He does the same for Howlett’s personal number, only he adds a quick, _Even you could have handled this._

Erik will never understand how a man whose entire knowledge of computers can be summed up with “keep out of water” became the head of tech support. The man thinks the internet is another element just floating in the atmosphere, like nitrogen.

A minute later, his phone buzzes.

_Fuck off, Lehnsherr._

Biting back a laugh- _Someone finally learned how to copy/paste_ \- Erik leans back in his chair. He gets another text as he does, this one from the center. His next stop, no doubt.

Charles is squinting at the screen but seems content with what he sees, if a little confused.

“Well,” Erik says too loudly, making Charles jump, “it was good to see you, but I better get going-” He stops, eyes drawn to the chaos on the screen.

Charles flinches. “I don’t know what happened. I was just clicking through, and then…”

For a moment, all Erik can do is stare at the monitor in awe and horror. “Charles, you… I haven’t seen this kind of error since Windows 98.”

The professor winces. “Oops.”

_Change of plans,_ Erik taps out quickly. _Xavier just did something, and I think it might be impossible._

The person at the center must be Jubilee, because the message he gets back is a face laugh-crying.

“I am so sorry, Erik,” Charles apologizes, looking miserable. “I don’t know why this always happens…”

Erik shakes his head, dismissing the apology. “Like I told you the first time, I like a challenge, and this, Professor, is going to be that.”


	2. customer service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for butterynutjob, who asked for more from the geek squad au

Erik is in the middle of a pleasant, indistinct dream when the door slams open and Jubilee skips in.

“Got another one for ya, Magneto,” she calls happily.

“No,” Erik grouches.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s Xavier. He says it’s stupid.”

Erik sighs and gets up. The things he does.

Jubilee snorts, and into the phone she says, “Don’t worry, Professor. Erik’s on his way. Oh, no, it’s fine. He was just doing some desk work. Yep, he’s on his way. Bye, Erik!”

“I don’t like you,” Erik informs her as he slips past.

She harrumphs but lets him go unmolested.

Erik is mostly awake and almost personable by the time he gets to Charles’ office. He knocks on the door, waits for the telepathic acknowledgement and request that he come to one of the classrooms. The computer itself is running fine so far as he can tell remotely as he makes his way toward the professor.

 _Sorry about this,_ Charles sighs.

 _It’s fine,_ Erik tells him, sensing already that this is going to be one of Charles’ more apologetic days. _I was just napping._

Wrong move. Charles will feel guilty about anything, no matter how little.

 _I can hear you, you know,_ Charles tells him sourly. A pulse of affection undercuts the sentiment, and Erik is smiling when he walks into the room where Charles is squinting and making faces at his desktop monitor.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“The icons are wrong.”

Heaving a sigh- there are too many things that could mean- Erik makes his way over to where Charles is parked. He squints at the screen a moment before snorting and reaching forward. “You tried using the touchpad again, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” Charles hedges. “Why?”

Erik chews the inside of his cheek as he unplugs the mouse and touches his fingers to the pad, dragging them apart- and dragging the icons back to their original size. “With a touchpad,” he explains, fighting the urge to laugh at Charles’ rapidly pinking expression, “you can zoom in and out on your desktop.”

“Oh.”

“Stick to the mouse, and you should be fine.”

Charles nods vigorously. “Thank you again, Erik. You’re a life saver.”

“You know I get paid for this, right?”

“Don’t kill my good mood. I’m about to give you something nice.” Charles brushes imaginary- or not, knowing him- lint off his cardigan. “I have a couch in my office. It’s very comfortable, and you’re welcome to use it if you’d like.”

Erik smiles, warmed by the invitation, but shakes his head. “I’m on the clock right now, but I might take you up on it later, depending on how much McCoy wants me to play Program Hokey Pokey.” At Charles’ look of confusion, he says, “Don’t ask. Trust me. I wish I didn’t know.”

Charles laughs, and Erik finds himself relaxing despite the early hour.

“If you won’t use my sofa, you can at least have some coffee, surely,” Charles tells him as Erik resolves himself to returning to the land of polo shirts. He’s pathetically interested in caffeine, having been running too late to stop for any.

Still, he can’t just drink Charles’ coffee.

Can he?

“It’s Dunkin,” Charles promises, enticing Erik with the promise of a simple, mouth-meltingly hot drink. “Oh, go on. You look terrible. There’s a thermos next to the pot. You can return it to me tomorrow, all right? So shoo. Shoo!”

Erik shoos and spends the next half hour sipping happily. He returns the thermos the next day, but Charles somehow talks him into another cup. It happens again the day after. And the one after that. Before he knows it, he’s seeing Charles every day first thing for coffee.

He can’t say he minds.

 

**_xx_ **

 

“What is this supposed to be?” Erik asks.

“An app?”

“So why are you trying to run it? You have a Windows computer, Charles.”

“Exactly! Windows says I have apps-”

“Windows is lying,” Erik explains with all the finality he can muster. “Look. Just double click on it. See how it opens up instead of asking you to run it?” Charles nods. “That means it isn’t an .exe file, and if it isn’t an .exe, you…”

“Can’t run it,” Charles sighs. “I was so happy when I found it. It would have been terribly useful in class.”

“Sorry, Professor, but I don’t think you’re getting a Mac anytime soon.”

“Cheapskates.”

Huffing a laugh to himself, Erik pats Charles’ shoulder. “Anything else while I’m here?”

Charles shakes his head miserably. “No, this is all. Thank you, Erik.”

“Not a problem, Professor. You know where to find me if you need me.”

“I do indeed.”

Somehow, as he leaves, Erik gets the feeling the words aren’t meant as brightly as Charles said them.

 

**_xx_ **

 

Erik is in line for lunch- he’s a fiscally responsible adult, yes, but sometimes he gets tired of endless PB&Js and the dollar menu- when his phone beeps.

“Please no,” he whispers. Pulling it out, he checks the screen, and sure enough, there it is, a message from the center: ** _Charles Xavier, login issues_**.

Sighing, Erik puts the phone away and abandons his place in line. The man behind him chuckles and asks, “Boyfriend trouble, Lehnsherr?”

Erik casually flips Azazel the bird on his way out.

If takes him fifteen minutes to find Charles. It takes him fifteen seconds to find and fix the problem.

“Caps lock,” he says bleakly, tapping the light. Charles winces, but Erik isn’t angry. He’s tired and hungry; anger requires energy he doesn’t have. The light goes off after he presses the key, and when Charles types his password, he gets in without a problem.

Lunch is over by then, and if Erik waves Charles’ thanks aside with less cheer than normal, he at least manages not be a brute about it.

Charles’ goodbye is timid like it was when they first met, though, which suggests Erik wasn’t as polite as he thought.

He’ll apologize tomorrow.

Trudging back to the office, he shoots a text to Jubilee asking her if there’s any of the communal food left. There isn’t.

He returns to his desk a tired hero, returned from the war. He has been sitting there, stomach growling unhappily, for nearly an hour when a delivery boy pops his head in and calls his name. In his hands is a pre-paid sandwich from Erik’s favorite deli, along with a hastily scribbled note.

_You need a vacation._

He does, but getting someone to cover him with Charles isn’t easy. Thus his full bank of vacation days.

Just as Erik is getting ready to tear into his lunch, Howlett comes over. “I don’t know who you’re friends with,” he grouches, “but McCoy just volunteered to use Xavier as field work for some of his students. And orders from above are that you’re taking next week off, no complaints.”

He doesn’t let Erik have the time to come up with an argument. One moment he’s trying to loom- the next, he’s moving off to harass an intern.

Erik looks down at his sandwich and wonders briefly what he did to deserve Charles Xavier- can one person be both punishment or reward?

He will apologize tonight, before Charles leaves.

 

**_xx_ **

 

McCoy calls him on the fourth day of his vacation. Erik is lying, bored and frustrated, on the sofa in the middle of one of the _Maury_ episodes with animals when his phone rings. He answers too quickly, fingers scrabbling at the device in his haste not to miss anything that isn’t his ceiling.

“He deleted it,” McCoy informs him, skipping the formalities. “The entire biological sciences department is gone from the site, and I don’t know what he did with it. He told me not to bother you, but _everything is gone_.”

Erik doesn’t bother fighting his smile. “I’ll be right in.”

Charles catches him sneaking in through a window. The look on his face could almost be impressed if he didn’t look so upset. “You aren’t supposed to be here,” he accuses. “I’m going to kill Hank.”

“He only called because this is important,” Erik counters, dropping the rest of the way down. “And, as it happens, easily fixed.”

Charles squints at him, obviously unconvinced.

“I back up the code to everything you touch each week, just in case.”

“That’s disheartening.”

“So is rebuilding an entire department’s site.”

Erik waits for the inevitable acceptance. Charles can’t be that angry if he’s only glaring.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Charles says at last, deflating as he pivots his chair around. “Well?” he asks over his shoulder. “Come clean up after me, nanny.”

 _That was bitter,_ Erik thinks to himself in surprise as he falls into step beside Charles in the hall. From the flinch, Charles must overhear but says nothing.

Howlett bristles when he sees Erik but wisely chooses not to engage. Any delays in putting the site to rights could make Charles explode.

A few taps on a computer already running, some copy/pasting, and a double check later, all is returned to what it was at five pm the Saturday before.

“Any changes since then will have to be made again, but the heavy lifting’s done,” Erik informs the space Charles had inhabited a minute before. “Charles?”

_Charles?_

“He left,” says a voice to his left.

“Thank you, McCoy,” Erik returns sweetly. “I had actually noticed that on my own.”

“Happy to help, Lehnsherr.” The other mutant snorts. “He wasn’t going to stick around longer than he had to, was he?”

“Is he all right? He doesn’t usually get upset like this.”

McCoy arches a brow. “He doesn’t usually get personally reprimanded by the university provost.”

That would do it. Charles is the school’s poster boy. Everybody loves him. Everybody heaps praise on him. Getting chewed out by his superior would hit him hard.

Erik thanks McCoy and takes off.

Charles is predictable. He won’t want to see anyone for a day or two, and until he does, he beats himself up about whatever is bothering him. Nothing can disrupt the self-flagellation.

Nothing, save one thing.

Two days later, Charles wheels into tech support. “You,” he says loudly, “are either the nicest man or the biggest asshole.” In his lap is a plush cat wearing a purple sweater.

Erik smiles and shrugs. “Why not both?”

 

**_xx_ **

 

“Xavier’s office is on fire.”

Erik frowns. “What?’

"Your favorite professor’s shit is burning,” Howlett clarifies, throwing Erik a significant look. “You might want to go check on him. Jubilee will handle MacTaggert’s broken keyboard.”

Erik doesn’t hesitate. He takes off toward Charles’ office.

As he goes, the burnt smell gets stronger, and he catches sight of a fire extinguisher lying on its side against a wall. He pushes harder, dodging the handful of people who get in his way until he catches the mental tenor of an unhappy telepath.

Following the psionic presence, he almost passes Charles’ office. Peering in, he breathes a sigh of relief. It doesn’t look as bad as he had feared. Only one corner is blackened from the flames, and even that isn’t extensive.

Moving on, he finds Charles in the classroom two doors down. The man is just sitting hunched over in his chair looking miserable. Neither he nor his chair looks any worse for wear, and a knot of fear in Erik’s chest comes undone.

“I’m fine,” Charles tells him as Erik tentatively makes his way over. “Most likely unemployed, but wholly intact.”

“Better that than not.”

“I doubt it.” Running his hands through his hair, Charles groans. “I almost burned the building down. That- and all my other technological cock ups- will definitely make it to any potential future employers.”

Erik opens his mouth to reassure him, only for his mind to snag on something. “Other cock ups?” he repeats. “As in, your computer did this?”

“I don’t know what happened!” Charles says helplessly, hands flying up. “One moment, everything was fine. The next, all my tests had gone up in flames and the smoke detector was screaming at me.”

Erik blinks at him, trying to process this revelation. Charles set fire to his own office. Charles is so bad with computers he accidentally started a fire with one.

“You,” Erik says, fighting the urge to laugh, “are terrible.”

“Thank you, Erik. You’re a pillar of comfort to me in this trying time.”

_“You started a fire with your own computer.”_

“Stop saying that!” Charles snaps, but it’s too late. The first hint of a snicker already escaped Erik’s hold, and as Charles glares furiously at him, the snicker becomes a laugh, getting louder and louder as he collapses against a table, shaking with mirth at the fact that there is a man who could unintentionally bypass the cooling settings and safety switches to start a fire and that the same man who did that is the same one who thinks cats in sweaters are adorable and has enough medals to drown a man in the Hudson.

Charles continues glaring at him as Erik wipes at the tears in his eyes but relaxes when Erik’s legs nearly give out and snorts when Erik says, “You set your office on fire.”

“I was grading midterms,” Charles tells him mournfully. Another snort escapes him. “Tests, Erik. I was grading tests!”

“How’d that work out for you?” Erik hiccups.

“Not well!” Charles cries, and he bursts into laughter, which makes Erik’s own resurface so they’re both howling with it, the smoke still thick in their throats.

They laugh for too long, but Erik doesn’t mind. He can deal with a stitch in his side so long as Charles is all right, which he seems to be.

“Hey,” he says as they come down, nudging Charles’ foot with his own. “It’s going to be fine.”

Charles lifts his shoulders in weak assent. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Then it must be.” Charles gives him a genuine smile. “Thank you, Erik. I don’t know how you knew, but I needed that.”

“I’d tell you I’m telepath, but we both know I just enjoyed the thought of you setting a fire.”

“You have an alarming destructive streak, my friend,” Charles observes.

This time, Erik shrugs. “You aren’t in shock, are you?”

Charles doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he turns sober eyes on Erik, bright blue eyes watching him sharply.

Erik swallows hard.

He and Charles have had chemistry since they met. It’s just a spark, a promise that if they fanned it a little it could grow bigger than both of them, but so far they’ve only danced around it.

“Really, Erik? A fire metaphor?”

“Is there a better one?”

Pausing, Charles gives the question more consideration than it needs. “No,” he says at last. “No, I don’t think there is.”

“Would you… Is it something you want to try?” Erik asks, mouth dry.

Charles’ lips quirk. “Are you asking me if I want to stroke it?”

“Stoke it,” Erik corrects mildly, well-used to Charles’ terrible “jokes”, “and yes, I am.”

“Then yes, I do. I really do.” His expression turns sly. “Want to make our first date getting out of here and grabbing a bite?”

Erik does, and he holds Charles’ hand the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted [here](http://phalangine.tumblr.com/post/145962998688/geek-squad) and [here](http://phalangine.tumblr.com/post/146026865711/customer-service)


End file.
